Paul Beare

...

Daddy its raining again as you sleep face down in the sidewalk gutter across the street from Joe's bar.
Broken bottles of whiskey are shattered all around you and make me only wish that a wrong move would cut you blood cold.
You begin to stumble back to life as I fly back to heaven with the warm morning sun upon my little wings.
I don't want to hear you cry today daddy; mommy says that's the alcohol talking.
...

Thank you would not be enough unless I said it softly to the Lord.
For the woman that I came upon saved me from my doomed vision of a solitary man.
A vision that made me feel like a beetle hiding under a cold rock near death.
I was unable to see the light.
...